Someone to appreciate me
by Fanwrite
Summary: Human AU! Lukas and Emil have spent all their short lives in Lofoten. But when an event unbeknownst to them occurs, they are forced to live in the same house as a nice middle-aged man, an intimidating Swede, an overly excitable Finn and a loud Dane. How will this work out for them, only time will tell. Some slight Best friend!HongIce
1. Chapter 1

"Ber!" Mathias shouted, running down the stairs. His adopted brother poked his head out from behind the kitchen doorway.

"What 's it?" he mused.

"Do ya know when dad's coming home? He's been away an awfully long while." Mathias' dad spent a lot of his time at work, but he always found time for his three sons, Lukas, Berwald and Tino. None of the three boys were related but they felt like a family. His father had adopted both Berwald and Tino in the past two years, and the house felt like it grew warmer the longer they stayed.

Then he heard the cling of keys in the front door. Mathias turned in the sound's direction. His father stood in the doorway, a smile on his face. Mathias had only seen that look twice before – once when Berwald came to live with them, the other when Tino did. What could be the reason this time? The seven year old waited, a grin on his inquisitive, bright face.

"Hello boys," his father said, his tone cheery like the rest of his face. His posture as he came in was relaxed and he didn't look weary like he usually did returning from work.

"I have a surprise for you," the man continued, covering the gap in the ajar door with his body.

"What is it?" Mathias asked. He heard Berwald move next to him. Tino's footsteps reverberated off the walls as the small four year old ran down the stairs to join them, his violet eyes sparkling. The man smirked. He took a step to the side, pulling the door open completely.

Outside, stood two young boys who looked about Tino's age. The one who looked slightly younger with silver hair and violet eyes looked terrified, and hid behind the other boy, with hair of platinum blond and cerulean eyes. His face had a neutral look, but his dark eyes showed just the slightest sign of fear, though it was barely noticeable. They were both quite pretty young boys, Mathias had to admit.

"Mathias, Tino, Berwald," the man spoke calmly, "This is Emil," he gestured to the silver haired toddler, "and Lukas. They'll be living with us from now onwards." Mathias and Tino grinned and a small smile spread on Berwald's lips.

"Hey, I'm Mathias, it's great to meet you both!" Mathias exclaimed, shaking the older boy's hand. The boy (Lukas?), replied with a quiet "hi". Then he felt his father's hand on his shoulder, pulling him gently away. He knelt down so he was eye level with the two boys. Then he started speaking in what Mathias thought was Danish, but he changed his mind about it quickly. The pronunciation was slightly different and the words weren't quite right. He took a step back and whispered to Berwald,

"You understand any of that?" Berwald shook his head.

"'t's not Swedish." Mathias nodded. There was no point in asking Tino. It was definitely not Finnish.

The blond man stood up again, and looked at the three idling in the middle of the corridor.

"Lukas and Emil are Norwegian-Icelandic. They've lived in Lofoten, in Norway all their lives so far. Mathias and Ber, you might be able to talk to them some, Norwegian, and even Icelandic, isn't too far from Swedish and Danish," he looked at Tino apologetically, "I'm afraid Finnish is too far off from both Norwegian and Icelandic."

Tino beamed. "Don't worry," he chimed, "Ber's been teaching me Swedish. And I can always wait anyway."

The man nodded. "Good. I'll be trying to help them with English as much as I can, but you know how my job is sometimes, being in charge of everything," he sighed, discontented, before finishing his speech, "I'll leave them to you three for now." He patted Lukas on the back, making his shoulders stiffen, before making his way up the stairs.

Mathias made eye contact with Berwald and recognised that they both had the same desire to talk to the two new additions to the family. However he knew Berwald well enough to know he wouldn't co-operate so he let his eyes connect to Tino's, who seemed to know exactly what to do. Tino came up behind Emil and Mathias behind Lukas and they pushed the two boys into the living room. Berwald followed them in, his step quick behind the two.

The two boys looked at them in confusion. Mathias grinned pushing Lukas onto the sofa and sitting down next to him. Berwald sat himself down next to Emil. Tino sat on the floor cross-legged, looking up at them.

"_So,"_ Mathias started in Danish. Swedish, Danish and Norwegian had quite a few similarities. Maybe they would somehow be able to break the language border. _"What was Lofoten like?"_

Lukas' eye widened slightly, probably hearing the name of his home town. He thought for a second.

"Det var vakkert," he said after a while. Mathias, who caught two thirds of the sentence, turned to Berwald who sighed and translated.

"'Vakker' prob'ly means beaut'ful."

Mathias grinned. "See? We can more or less work things they say out."

After a little while investigating into as much detail of the two boys' past, Mathias found himself alone in the room with the five year old boy. Lukas watched him, his sapphire pools following Mathias' every move. He smiled to him warmly.

"You'll like it here," he said in English, even though he knew there was a very small chance he would be understood by the Norwegian sitting next to him, "With you and Emil around, it's sure to feel even more like a family." The Norwegian listened to him speak but didn't say anything. After a few moments Mathias carried on. "Now we've more people to fill the emptiness. I wonder if mum would've liked it," he caught his breath and shook his head. In that moment he turned his head in Lukas' direction. "I wonder what your family back in Norway's like. Why you're here. Whatever the case, I'm glad you're here now, out of all the places in the world. " He got up and started walking out. "G'night, Lukas."

The Norwegian watched the Dane walk out of the before getting up himself. He walked over to the oaken shelf by the side of the room, his hand trailing along the spines of the books, his pale hand lingering on a white hard-back. He slid it out carefully, inspecting the yellowed with age pages.

"_Asbj__ørnsen __and Moe__,__" _he turned to see the man who took him, who he believed to be called Érik. He stood watching him. Nodding, he said, _"__Good folklore collection." _The man walked over to him, kneeling so that they were on eye level. _"__Norwegian, I believe."_

"_Father used to read this book to us when we couldn't fall asleep,"_ the boy admitted, looking the man in the eye. He hesitated for a second before asking, _"__Do you really think my brother and I are going to fit in around here?"_

The man nodded. _"__Of course." _He straightened himself up, before saying, _"__Emil is already in bed, fast asleep. I'll take you up to your room. I hope the boys weren't causing you too much havoc."_

Lukas sighed. _"__That one with the stupid hair, Mathias I think, was pretty annoying. But overall it wasn't too troublesome. Don't know if I can put up with it for the rest of my life though." _

Érik laughed. _"__I hear that a lot about my son, would you believe. Come. It's late."_

* * *

_Yeah uh first chapter. It gets better I promise! Any reviews or corrections are welcome, as I don't speak Norwegian (though I aim to!). _


	2. Chapter 2

Over the next few months, every other day after school, Lukas and Emil would sit down at the kitchen table with their foster father and be given some English lessons. The boys picked up the language quickly, with the younger of the two learning it faster. They never seemed to have a break – Mathias and Tino were both curious young boys who wanted to know everything. Berwald was a lot calmer than the other two; he didn't push them anywhere, or to do anything. He was quiet and polite, even if a little intimidating. Lukas liked Berwald; he was the easiest for him to connect with, even if the Swede's accent was hard to understand.

A month passed like a second, a year like an hour. By Lukas' tenth birthday, the strange people that they had been placed with were family, the over-crowded house was home. And as much as Lukas tried to deny it, to himself and to everyone around him, Mathias was the greatest friend anyone could have. He was annoying, that much had to be said, but he was loyal and honest.

"Hey, Lukas?" Speak of the devil, and there he is. The wild-haired, blond Dane stood in his doorway, his hands behind his back.

"What are you holding?" Lukas enquired. From behind his back, Mathias got out a neatly wrapped, red box with a blue ribbon.

"Happy Birthday," Mathias said, grinning. He handed him the box, and Lukas took it slowly. He pushed a few strands of his hair behind his ear before opening the present.

His breath stopped short. Inside the box was a gold cross hair pin.

"Thought you might like it," Mathias shrugged, "Since your fringe is getting rather long. Here," he took the clip out of the box, sliding it into the left side of Lukas' hair. "There, much better."

Lukas touched the clip; it felt cold against his fingertips. He turned towards the mirror that hung on his bedroom wall. He had to admit, the clip suited him quite nicely. The Dane had to be given some credit for choosing it out of anything he could have bought.

"It's nice," he whispered.

"Glad you like it," Mathias chirped.

"Lukas," Érik's deep voice reverberated around Lukas' room. Both boys turned in its general direction. "I have something for you, if you want it."

"What is it?"

The man held up a sealed, white envelope. "From your mum."

Lukas' eyes widened. "From... my mum?" The man nodded, holding the envelope out to him. "Five years and now is when she chooses to contact me?"

Five years. It was too long. He had long lost all hope of Liv Bondevik ever trying to get in touch ever again. She had never been a brilliant mother, but she could have at least given them some sign that she was alive. He sometimes wondered if she even knew she had sons sometimes. He eyed the envelope in his father's hand cautiously, before hesitantly taking it.

"What does it say?"

"It's... nothing special." Nothing special. He silently laughed, re-reading the words marked on the parchment in his mother's elegant hand.

_Dear Lukas,_

_I don't really know why I'm writing this, but I was told to. I don't see why. You and Emil are just out there. In the garden. I can hear your laughter, and your father is looking after you. They're telling me you're not. But I can see you and hear you. You're there._

_I love you._

_Your mum_

Lukas scowled. But he couldn't keep up the expression, which fell easily from his face. His mother had had it bad the past few years, more than he had imagined. He looked again inside the envelope. Another piece of paper was inside it, small and square shaped. He took it out. Barely a second after he saw it, it had been scrunched up into a tight ball, thrown across the room.

"Don't tell my little brother I got a letter from _her_," he said, before he stormed out of the room.

Mathias watched him leave, his ice blue eyes drifting to the corner in which the paper lay, crumpled. His father watched him pick it up and unfold it, straighten out the creases. It was a photo of two boys, who he recognised as Lukas and Emil, a tall, silver haired man, and a woman with long, blond hair, as yellow as gold. Her eyes were a dark amethyst colour, and full of light. All four of them were pale; all four had smiles on their lips, light in their eyes. A smile was something that Mathias had never in the past five years seen cross either of the siblings' lips.

"That's their mum," Érik nodded to the woman in the photo. Mathias looked at him for a few seconds.

"You knew he'd react the way he did. Didn't you?"

Érik nodded. "And there's something more I need to tell him."

Mathias shifted uncomfortably. "And that is?"

"She's been diagnosed with schizophrenia."

He heard a quiet gasp outside the door, the sound of moving clothing. He lowered his eyes to look at the cracks in the wooden floor. "She was taken into asylum yesterday."

Without another word, the man left. Mathias once again looked at the photo. Poor Lukas and Emil.

A large hand slipped the photo out of his own fingers. Berwald placed the photo on the bedside table, the picture facing down.

Mathias clenched his hand in a fist. "If only there was something I could do."

Tino and Berwald looked at him, their eyes full of pity. The youngest of the three took Mathias' hand and squeezed it gently, reassuringly.

"We can't do anything, let's face it, Mathias," he said sadly, "We can only wait to see what happens."

For someone who was only nine, Tino was very smart and mature, something Mathias always failed at being. He sighed and nodded, heading out of the room.

Emil stood outside, his violet eyes glistening. _Oh crap, _Mathias thought, _had he heard all that?_ Both of the siblings were equally hard to read, though Emil was the easier of the two. There was nothing on his round face to suggest he had heard anything; no confusion or sadness or fear in his eyes.

"Mathias?" Emil asked quietly, "Why was big brother so upset?" Mathias gasped quietly, trying to think of an excuse.

"Don't you worry 'bout it," he chuckled, his voice wavering slightly, "Everything's fine. He's just got up on the wrong side of the bed." Emil obviously didn't believe him but he ceased asking any more.

In the five years they had been together, neither of the two had ever spoken about their past, save a few general comments about Lofoten. The whole business with their mum had Mathias greatly confused. Obviously, she wasn't the best mother, otherwise they wouldn't have ended up with his family in the first place. But she couldn't have been that bad. Could she? Selfishly, he was glad she was unable to look after them. He felt guilty feeling that, but he did. Without her being that way, he would have never met Lukas and Emil, something he couldn't imagine nowadays, now that they were as close as brothers.

He heard sobbing coming through the kitchen window. The house had a fairly large garden, with a few towering trees with dark green leaves. However the trees were so close together it felt like a wood. A small forest where there was only you and the trees. Lukas loved that place. He went there a lot, when he wanted to be alone.

Quietly, he tip-toed outside, following the sound. The boy was sat underneath a tree, looking up through the tree crown at the sky. He was singing quietly in Norwegian to himself . He looked so melancholic sitting there, desolate eyes focused on the sky.

Mathias stood there, listening to the boy's voice. When the song came to an end, he started to clap slowly. Lukas turned in his direction, eyes slightly panicked, before he realised who it was.

"What song was that?" the Dane asked, setting himself down next to the Norwegian who stayed silent for another few moment. Mathias thought he wouldn't get a reply when he was proven wrong.

"'Nocturne' by Secret Garden."

Mathias smiled. "It was beautiful." Lukas looked at him sceptically. "I mean it! You're a good singer."

"My little brother's the good singer in the family," Lukas shook his head, "I'm just good with music."

"Ever played an instrument?"

Lukas stiffened for a second, before nodding. "Yes." He looked at his feet, before adding, "It's in my wardrobe right now." Mathias wondered aloud what the instrument was. "A violin."

A violin. The Norwegian had managed to hide a violin from them for five years. He wondered whether his dad knew about the secret instrument hidden in the house.

"Can you play something for me?" Lukas waited for about five seconds before getting up to leave. "Is that a yes or a no?" Mathias stumbled up onto his feet and chased after him. The spring breeze tickled his skin, biting his cheeks as he caught up to him. The Norwegian's expression was as stoic as ever when he turned around to see the persistent Dane was following, and would follow him to his grave.

* * *

_Another chapter. Woo. Btw fem!Norway is Lukas and Emil's mum and just a man who looks like an older version of Ice is their dad I guess. Any reviews, comments and corrections appreciated. ~_


	3. Chapter 3

The corridor stretched out in front of him, the door to his room seeming to not get any closer than when he had started. The boy behind him kept calling his name, telling him to slow down. But he couldn't. What he had just revealed was the only part of home he had left; the only part he wanted to keep. He was, to say the least, reluctant to share it. But to the other blond the secret hidden in his room seemed to spill from his lips like water.

His arm struck out, yanking the doorknob. He slammed the door shut and turned the key; a temporary barricade from the still fairly unfamiliar world of alien faces. A few of them were like family, yes. But other than those few, he had no one. No one to call his friend. There was a Romanian boy in his class who was all right and shared his passion for mystical beings, but he was the only person who Lukas connected with outside the house. Not that he minded. As long as his brother had friends, he didn't care about himself.

Slowing his breath, he let his heartbeat even out. He didn't even remember running, just that he had to escape. He approached his wardrobe, letting his hand wander across the smooth, cold wood. Twisting his wrist, he opened the door. He took care to move the embroidered cloths out of the way, breaching the veil between reality and his mind. The polished oak of the instrument gleamed in the rays of light that came in through the open window. Carefully, he picked it up, one hand on the neck and one on the lower bout. The wood felt cool under his long fingers. He stroked the beautiful engravings decorating the sides of the elegant instrument, stopping only when he heard a loud thud on the door.

The clamor outside was off-putting to say the least, however this was his haven, an asylum from all worried. He let his body sink into the bed's mattress, the springs letting out a slight groan. But from the moment the bow met the strings, the whole world silenced. No sound other than that of the violin, singing its song sweetly for all to hear.

The music was like a dream, but all dreams end. Planting a soft kiss on the wood, he returned it to its sanctuary, ready to be played again. He laid down on his bed, closing his eyes. While most people would expect he wouldn't understand what was happening, he really needed to be given the benefit of the doubt. He didn't understand everything about his mother's condition. However, he knew more than he was given credit for. He knew she was delusional; he had noticed things all those years ago. Symptoms that had occurred only after a certain event. He had always spent more time with their mother than Emil had. He had loved her so much. Then, it happened.

His father was a fisherman. He used to go out in his fishing boat, and often came back with fresh fish that his mum would prepare differently every time. It was the taste of his childhood. But one day, he didn't come home. The boat had been caught in a massive storm. The ship sank, there were no survivors. He hadn't known what had happened until two years ago, when Érik told him. He was slowly beginning to understand everything, piecing things together. With only two children in the home, there was no one to tell that anything was wrong. She began to lose herself, bit by bit. She still laid the table out for his father every night. She stopped smiling, her voice becoming monotonous. She barely spoke at all, and, though he hadn't noticed at the time, couldn't use information very well. The ordered, joyful woman she had been begun to slowly become someone who she had never been.

He rolled onto his side. He just hoped it would all be over and out of his mind soon.

* * *

_Just a little chapter about Lukas' feelings and back story. This story will get back to plot next chapter. _


	4. Chapter 4

Mathias sat outside the door, his eyes on the chandelier hanging above him. Where did Lukas learn to play like that? And where did he even get the instrument? Did his father know about the secret violin? There were lots of questions inside the boy's head but he tried to put them to rest as well as he could. Lukas was keeping secrets, sure. But he had his reasons. Probably.

Right then the door opened, hitting the Dane hard on his back. He let out a yelp of surprise, shooting up onto his feet. Lukas' dull blue eyes were watching him, an eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Bror, what are you doing?" he crossed his arms, trying to look intimidating, before realizing what he had called him. Mathias cocked his head to the side, a lop-sided grin filling his face.

"Did you just call me "brother"?" he laughed slightly. By now Lukas' face glowed a light scarlet. He pouted.

"No, it never happened."

Mathias' cheerful laugh reverberated off the corridor walls. "I liked it, you should do that more often." When Lukas didn't reply, he added, "You don't have to if you don't want to ya know. I just said I liked it, don't take it so seriously."

Lukas shrugged, waiting for Mathias to change the subject. The older blond rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Your violin performance was good," he smiled, "Where'd you learn to play like that?"

Lukas looked taken aback for a moment. He pursed his lips, immersed in thought, contemplating whether to share or not. At last he replied, his words slow.

"Mostly, I taught myself," he shrugged like it was nothing. Mathias' eyes widened in wonder. What he had heard barely moments ago what brilliant playing. How did a ten year old manage to teach himself all that?

"'Mostly'. What about the rest of it?" he pressed the question. The Norwegian sighed, sliding a lock of hair behind his ear.

Why was Mathias so interested in this? Well, 5 years in and the younger boy had grown on him immensely. He could be harsh, but he was a brother to him. However, he tended to be very distant from everyone, and quiet, keeping everything to himself. Even Emil couldn't get everything out of him. Lukas would do literally anything for his younger brother; saying he loved him a lot was an understatement.

"It's not any of your business." Mathias had expected that answer. He bit the side of his bottom lip, before looking the boy in the eyes, getting lost in their depths. What lengths he wouldn't go to to feed his burning curiosity. But what could he do? Five years of experience have led him to know that even if he did a mountain's worth of good deeds for him, Lukas wouldn't say a thing. After all, he hadn't spoken about his life in Lofoten much. Mathias had heard nothing about either of the boy's parents. Most of what he knew was from what his own father had told him when he asked, which was little as Érik knew that Lukas' past deserved privacy.

But it was alright. He was curious, but, contrary to popular belief, he could control himself. To a certain extent. Some of the time. Darn, the questions were eating him up from the inside. He figured it would only be a matter of time before his whole being would explode from overwhelming curiosity.

And yet a year passed. Followed by another. And another. Neither Nordic was giving in to the long running contest for answers. Yet, by now it had become the norm. So much so that both of them could tell what the other was thinking and what they were going to do next. Mathias found himself sitting outside the other boy's door everyday, secretly listening to him playing his instrument, and in turn the younger boy found himself watching the other blond go about his business. Those moments were like short-term, temporary truces from their game that could go on forever. Both of them knew that, but neither was weak enough to let it go.

Mathias knew that if he kept being persistent, the boy would give in sometime. But something that he was beginning to notice started worrying him. At first he ignored it, thinking it was just something that came with growing up in Lukas' family. Both he and Emil smiled fairly rarely, so he assumed it was in his genes. The older sibling showed it so much stronger though – he spoke monotonously and spoke less and less. God only knew what was happening. Yet a single event made everything take a turn for the worse.

* * *

_**And then there were 4. God I look forward to writing the next chapter, more than I probably should be. A lot more than I probably should be. It will probably turn out twice the length of this one. Go figure. **_


End file.
